Song of a Mourning Dove
Weaver or veil, I know not what! Or as
A pilgrim do I fly? Pinnate? Spirit?
Unborn etymon lighting the Torah’s
Architrave, illumining God’s merit?
Or under a clear, epistolary sky
Foraging forests do I arborize?
By thought define some vast orogeny?
Or housing all truths, lurking in all lies,
Sing, redeem, melodious theophor
Of soil and seed? Or phantom yet humble
Inspire sight, joy, a leap, a metaphor,
As non-existent proud cities crumble?
Whether I am or, mindful, merely seem,
Giver of light, shed light upon my dream!
Copyright © 1995 Sam Gold